


Kingdoms Crumble

by SerenityFalconNormandy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Past and Present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityFalconNormandy/pseuds/SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Drabble collectionThree heroes and their reflections on modern kingdoms and the past kingdoms they're built on.Prompt: When one kingdom falls, another rises.





	Kingdoms Crumble

The ruins in the Brecilian Forest were painful to observe, on a certain level. Once, her people had walked the now long-abandoned halls, had sent their elders to the Long Sleep in the crypts. Using the tablet she found, Gwyneth performed a ritual that hadn’t been seen in those chambers for thousands of years.

 

When she found the phylactery, there was no hesitation as she placed it on the altar. As it shattered, the last gasp of a fallen kingdom breathed new life into a woman born to one raised on its foundations. Gwyneth wouldn’t let this skill be lost for another age.

 

* * *

 

The Tevinter Imperium had fallen long ago, and though Kirkwall had remained, the ancient kingdom’s bones were found throughout the city. Marian felt the heritage of the Imperium every day and night.

 

The torn and tattered Veil in the city meant dreams and nightmares were stronger, more intense, dangerous. Every night, she prayed that whatever came to her in her dreams wouldn’t be something she couldn’t resist or fight off.

 

Such was life as a mage living in the City of Chains. Ancient specters from Emerius’s founding had hunted mages in the city, no matter what it people called it.

 

* * *

 

There was no trace of what once had been in Halamshiral. Unless you counted the artifacts of her people displayed as trophies, that is. Fen’lath could feel the rage of her ancestors dancing across her skin in time to the Orlesians turning about the ballroom floor.

 

She ran her fingers over everything she possibly could, smirking to herself when the masked humans drew away from a bannister like it had been tainted by her elven fingers. In time, their empire would crumble, and she hoped to be directing the course of the successor - one that would be raised on its ashes.


End file.
